


White Rabbit

by Charlynch



Series: Bloodletting [3]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bloodletting, Bloodletting Universe, F/F, Lesbians Everywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlynch/pseuds/Charlynch
Summary: The prequel to Bloodletting.Alexa has never been somewhere so much of an Elsewhere as kingdom Charlotte has built for herself; a new town, a new job, these things can be tough at the best of times. Falling in love with the wild-hearted aesthete who pays your salary, owns your house and also happens to be a vampire? Definitely a bold choice. A socialite so bloody she could put Elizabeth Bathory to shame, Charlotte lives, or rather doesn't, for parties, for beautiful women, for art and artists, for songs and poetry and paintings and everything beautiful in between. No matter how many pieces she has in her collection, nothing can beat the golden-haired girl who blew in from nowhere, the highest art Charlotte has ever seen; Charlotte will sacrifice anything to own her.





	1. Chapter 1

The trees shuddered in the wind, striping the horizon like a great flickering tiger; the sun hung low, filtering between the branches all gold and vermilion, flashing in and out as the train weaved through the wood at pace. The pines were steadfast and unchanging, a last bastion of black defence against the fire of a foreign sky. Alexa's hands twitched; she'd spent the better part of her journey anxiously tapping her fingernails against the chipping grey plastic tabletop, before realising the tapping was only serving to make her more anxious. An unfamiliar version of herself gazed at her from the train window, warping in the reinforced glass. The other Alexa was wide-eyed and wan, the sunset world behind shining through her face, as though she were a ghost.

“What am I doing?” Alexa breathed the words out with a slight shiver; they fogged the glass so she could hide from her reflection.

_What am I doing? _had become a constant chant throughout her journey, prayed out over and over like beads of a rosary. The car ride to the airport. The plane ride. The connecting flight. The shuttle to the train station. And now, once more with feeling, on the train, all the way to the end of the line; her stop. She wondered if the question would still quiver on her lips in the morning, the first salt of a new dawn, when she woke up in her new bed, in her new apartment, in her new city. Renting an apartment she'd never even visited had felt very daring when she'd sent the email confirming her interest from the computer in her dad's study back home. Now? Not so much.

“You're such a homebody, Lexi. Get out and see the world!” her mother had said, with that little laugh that told Alexa her mother was worried about her. When Alexa had quit her job and bought tickets to move across the country for university after taking some time out after school, her mother's tune had changed and she'd suddenly become overbearingly protective.

“I understand you wanna try and see the world for yourself honey, but are you sure you need to go so far away?” her mother had asked, her expression pained.

“Leave the kid alone,” her dad had yelled from the lounge, barely looking up from the TV. “Let her explore.”

When she'd told her boyfriend Gabe, he immediately got down on one knee and proposed to her, as though it was a golden noose he could loop about her to keep her by his side. Alexa thought he had looked ridiculous, kneeling on the floor empty handed and hurriedly trying to explain that he'd buy a ring with his next pay check. She didn't know how to explain that she wanted more for herself that marrying her high school boyfriend and living in the town she'd grown up in for the rest of her life. The small town existence didn't suit her; when she'd made her university applications, all of her choices hadn't just been out of state, they'd been as far out of reach of everything she knew as possible, and by proxy, as far out of her mother's reach and she could feasibly manage without moving continents. The world had called out to her; the least she could do was answer.

And here she was, on a rickety train in the half-light, her life forced into a suitcase so overfilled she'd had to ask her dad to sit on it so she could zip it closed. As the forest began to give way to neatly tailored fields, interrupted with stretches of highway and civilisation, Alexa could almost hear her mother's voice ringing in her ears.

“You know, you won't have anybody to sit on it for you when you come home!” her mother had said at the dinner table the night before she left, waving a forkful of chicken pot pie like a conductor's baton. Gabe, who had come over for the occasion, nodded emphatically at the remark. Alexa's dad kept his eye on his plate, chewing steadily, wordlessly. Alexa couldn't help but look at Gabe with distaste, in the shirt and tie he'd worn to try and curry favour with her father; he was everything she was running away from. He just seemed so insipid, so powerfully bland, more a tired “good-guy jock” stereotype than a person, with his full scholarship to the local college. He was boredom personified, and Alexa had endured five years of it because she was too polite to tell him she was only dating him to keep her mother happy.

“Oh, I don't know,” Alexa shrugged, swallowing the urge to assure her mother she wouldn't be coming home. “I'm sure I could find somebody.”

Gabe had looked at her worriedly then, afraid of her newfound boldness.

After dinner, he stole a moment alone with Alexa, red-faced and fidgeting far more than a man in his twenties had any right to, though he managed to flash her what he clearly imagined was a mischievous grin.

“Seeing as you're leaving and all... and we don't know how long it'll be before I can visit... you uh, wanna... do the deed? Before you go?” he asked with the tone of a child asking his mother for another helping of dessert after dinner. Alexa blinked at him. She barely kissed him if she could avoid it. She could never tell if it was him, or if boys just... weren't really her speed. Regardless, she kept those thoughts to herself; her mother was critical enough without something else to clutch pearls over.

“You can say sex. We're not thirteen,” she dead-panned, and he faltered. “And no. We've talked about this. I'm not... ready.”

“Not ready” was the politest way of saying “I don't ever want to do anything intimate with you ever” she could think of. As she stood in her parents' hallway, all five feet high and blue-eyed, studying the face of the boyfriend her mother had handpicked for her, Alexa felt a quiet frisson of self-loathing fizzle through her, sharp and electric, metallic-tasting.

“Babe, come on,” Gabe began, in a tone that seemed to imply Alexa was being unreasonable. “We've been together five years. I've waited that whole time, no complaining, and you gotta know how hard that is for any red-blooded guy. I see all my friends with their girlfriends on their laps, telling me all their sex stories, and I can hardly get you to hold my fucking hand. At this point, don't you think you're being a little selfish?”

The whine in his voice made Alexa's stomach turn, but she was saved from responding as her father appeared to offer Gabe a ride home.

It was with those words they'd parted, Gabe sullenly leaving without saying goodbye, Alexa washing the taste of the conversation out of her mouth with a glass of soda, wondering if her adventures would lead her to a girl who tasted of Diet Coke and cigarettes. Or a boy. Or nobody. She wasn't... sure. Not yet. Even on the train, with countless miles between them, the thought of Gabe's hands on her skin made her shudder. At least now she wouldn't have to break up with him. Distance would do it for her.

Alexa sighed, sagging backward in her seat and internally cursing her inability to sleep whilst travelling. The timetable for her trip hadn't been ideal; she had to pick up her keys at the bar below the apartment as soon as she got there, then head straight to bed as she had all-day student orientation, then an interview at the bar immediately afterwards. At least if she scored the bar job, she'd never have to worry about being late for work; the place was literally under her apartment. Couldn't get more convenient than that. Still, dread knotted in the pit of her stomach; what if she didn't get the job? What if she screwed up and got kicked out of school in her first semester? What if the landlord took one look at her and told her they didn't like her enough to rent the apartment out to her? She'd have to return home defeated, back to Gabe, back to her mother, back to the life she'd sworn to herself she'd never let trap her.

The train trundled on, oblivious to her worries as the voice of the conductor crackled over the speaker, announcing the upcoming stop. Alexa didn't listen for the names; they sizzled foreign in the intercom grate, stops she'd never heard of. Only the last stop mattered, and even then, it may have well been declared simply as “the unknown”. The only thing Alexa knew for certain was that she'd never felt so uncertain in all her life.

“You lost?” the voice cut through the gloom; as Alexa's eyes adjusted to the light, she noted an older blonde woman behind the bar. “Don't look like our usual clientele.”

The woman wore an expression somewhere been suspicion and gentleness, as though resisting the urge to welcome Alexa in for a sit down and a drink.

“Oh, uh... pardon me, I must've come at the wrong time, I-” Alexa began to ramble, before catching herself, taking a breath, and trying again. “Sorry. I'm Alexa. Bliss. Alexa Bliss. Miss, uh, Flair, she said I could stop by here and pick up the keys for the apartment.”

“Oh shoot!” the woman's face softened instantly and she made her way around the bar to help Alexa with her bags. “My bad, I forgot Chuck said you'd be by today. Not often we see folks so early in the evening. I'm Trish, I work the bar.”

She jammed a slender, tanned hand into the pocket of her impossibly tight jeans, extricating a small set of keys and pressing them into Alexa's hand.

“Thank you,” Alexa replied shyly, following at a jog as Trish began to haul her suitcase across the bar to a door in the back. “Is this the only way up to the apartments...?”

“Nah. Just the quickest. I'll give you a quick tour, but Charlotte will probably pick up the rest with you tomorrow. You're interviewing for bar staff too, right?” Trish asked, holding the door and allowing Alexa to sidle into the stairwell; to her surprise, it was vast and sweeping, with a beautiful, wrought iron banister. “Heads up, layout up here is a little weird. Originally, the place was a theatre, I think, which is why the staircases are so extra. Then it got turned into a super luxe townhouse.Used to be all one big multi-storey apartment, but Charlotte decided to split it up and let the apartments out. There's tenants in the other ones, but you won't see much of 'em outside of work on account of us all working nights at the bar.”

“You stay up here too?” Alexa asked in surprise. “Does Cha- Miss Flair stay here?”

“Sure do. I'm the floor below you, across the hall. Not everybody here is staff, but Charlotte prefers to rent to people she knows. She's not... big on the whole property thing. This is really just a side venture,” Trish explained as they climbed another flight of stairs. “And no, Charlotte doesn't live here. She has a few properties she splits her time between.”

“Pardon my ignorance, but what does Charlotte... do?” Alexa asked cautiously, trying and failing to take her bag from Trish who continued to lug it blithely upstairs as though she hadn't noticed Alexa's attempts to assist. Trish paused thoughtfully, her hand resting on the door handle.

“Charlotte does... a lot of things. It depends on who you ask,” Trish shrugged as they made their way into the hallway, pausing in front of a door numbered 3/3 in brass, like a hotel room. “You'll have plenty of time to talk to her tomorrow; she prefers to interview staff herself rather than leaving it to the bar staff. She's... ah... discerning. I'll let you get inside and make yourself comfortable. You'll probably be beat and wanna go right to bed, but if you wanna grab food before you go, kitchen closes at ten PM. Goodnight... Alexa, wasn't it?”

“Yeah,” Alexa nodded, slightly bewildered by the onslaught of information. “Goodnight. And thanks again for everything.”

“No sweat,” Trish replied with a smile, and then she was gone, the hallway doors swinging in her wake.

Morning crawled into bed with Alexa and shook her awake, insistent and cold, the wintry sun weak against the windows. It took her three panicked heartbeats to remember where she was; home was no longer what it had been. She had a new familiarity to learn; at least the sheets were familiar, frilled, pastel floral nightmares salvaged from her grandmother's house before she'd moved to the nursing home. The sheets looked garish and strange, her stuffed animals huddled up amongst her pillows as though cowering in the new, unexplored surroundings. Alexa had changed the sheets on the bed the moment she arrived, before collapsing into the duvet and falling asleep almost immediately, barely sparing a moment to look around the apartment or even flick the lights on. As she climbed down the delicate, clearly bespoke, spiral staircase into the lounge, she let out a soft gasp. The apartment was fully furnished, decorated tastefully with an artful eye, like something from a homeware feature in Vogue. Couches in pale leather slouched in the centre of the lounge, a throw tossed elegantly across an arm, cushions scattered with an artistic carelessness. The walls were white, with beautiful mouldings and bordering that Alexa guessed were original fixtures; roses crept from a ceiling medallion haloing a beautiful chandelier. Light gushed in from floor to ceiling windows, draped with black curtains. The dark wood floor was polished to a soft shine in the areas that were not covered by a thick grey rug of the most luxurious material Alexa had ever set foot on. Art, clearly carefully selected to complement the energy of the room, hung on the walls in burnished frames, and though the grand fireplace stood empty, Alexa somehow felt cosier just looking at it and picturing flames licking across the grate.

“This place is fucking unreal,” Alexa breathed to herself, mentally trying to calculate the worth of the furnishings in the lounge alone. The mirror above the mantelpiece had to be worth more than a few months of her rent, surely; why on Earth was Charlotte renting places like this out for next to nothing?

“It's a passion project,” Trish explained as Alexa sat at the bar, wolfing down the breakfast of pancakes the older women had set in front of her. Apparently, the bar was open between sundown until ten AM, for reasons Alexa couldn't fathom, though if it meant she could enjoy breakfast on the house every morning, she wasn't planning on questioning it.

“Passion project?” Alexa asked through a mouthful of honeyed raspberries.

“Charlotte is... what's the word... A great appreciator of the arts. An aesthete,” Trish replied, pausing to wipe down the bar as she collected dishes from previous customers who had since ventured out of the bar's cosy gloom and into the bright outside. “She doesn't need the money. She rents to people she likes, but mostly she likes decorating the houses. Putting people in them just makes her feel like she hasn't wasted her time. I know it seems to good to be true, but honestly? It really is just that simple. You take the cheap rent and gorgeous house and built in job paying way more than bar work ought to, and you don't ask Charlotte too many questions.”

“Questions?”

“You'll see what I mean,” Trish answered mysteriously, bustling through to the kitchen and leaving Alexa alone at the bar.

“Fuck,” she muttered, catching sight of the time; her first day, and of course she'd managed to make herself late. Pushing all thoughts of the thoroughly intriguing landlady and potential employer from her mind, Alexa yelled a hasty goodbye to Trish and hurried out of the bar. Moving from the shadow into the stark grey morning felt like tripping through the looking glass, falling over her own feet and tumbling head over heels into a world that was decidedly Somewhere Else, where even the architecture seemed strange and ominous. Alexa had stumbled into a Wonderland built by an ethereal queen, both white and red in equal measure, just as she was both Alice into the unknown, and her own White Rabbit, the anxious race of her thoughts reminding her; “you're late, you're late.”


	2. Chapter 2

Alexa sat at the bar awkwardly, twisting her hands in her lap. They wrung nothing, the tendons dancing an anxious ripple across her skin. Trish raised her eyebrows at Alexa's hunched form, poring over her Shirley Temple like her life depended on it.

“She won't be long,” Trish reassured her, sparing a kind, encouraging smile. “Don't stress. She'll like you, I promise.”

Alexa could only nod mutely, stunned into cold quiet by the nervous hum of her own mind. The bar hadn't opened for business yet, though sunset had come and gone; Trish was slicing fruit for drinks as a dark haired woman Alexa hadn't met yet moodily restocked the refrigerators with something dark in strange, plastic packaging. The radio crackled slightly, interrupting the bouncy pop song Trish had been tunelessly singing along to, with a newscaster's voice.

“...And the death count at the State Haemophage Research Facility is now at over one hundred confirmed fatalities as police attempt a clean-up operation following a containment breach in the early hours of this morning. The haemophage in question is yet to be located; residents in surrounding areas are advised to stay in their homes-”

“Turn that shit off,” the dark-haired woman barked. “It's bad enough we have to crawl around in the dark like bugs, never mind being reminded what happens to the ones unlucky enough to get caught.”

Alexa looked at her curiously, startling slightly as Trish frantically shushed the woman.

“Lita! Keep your voice down, Charlotte hasn't... shown the new kid the ropes yet,” she hissed, though she obliged in changing the station all the same. The dark-haired woman blanched and returned to her work, head bowed. Alexa briefly contemplated pressing the matter further, but quickly thought the better of it; it was probably not in her best interests to explore controversial topics with potential future colleagues before she'd even been interviewed. Her train of thought was interrupted as the door to the bar was thrown open, and a woman stalked in. However, simply calling her “a woman” felt like a terrible injustice to Alexa's mind, for the woman before her was otherworldly; this had to be Charlotte Flair. She exuded an aura of ownership, a deeply naturalistic air of sovereignty, regal entitlement, something deeper than being just the proprietor. There was a sense of belonging, as though everywhere she set foot instantly became hers. Even her clothes spoke of a violent luxury; she wore a beautifully tailored leopard print knit with an open collar and plunging neckline. Alexa might have been small town, but there was no mistaking Azzedine Alaia's Fall catwalk; she'd seen it in the fresh, glossy copy of Vogue she'd flicked through at the dentist just last week, wherein the praises of the 1991 autumnal fashion scene were sung with gusto. The woman's blonde hair shone, coiffed to perfection and fashioned into an elegant up-do, a few artfully arranged spiral curls escaping to frame her face. Her broad shoulders were apparent even in spite of the coat thrown over them, her elegant neck ornamented with diamonds that managed to catch the light spectacularly, even in the comparative umbra that seemed perpetually cast across the bar. When she spoke, Alexa trembled.

“I'm back,” she purred, with a grand, sweeping gesture of her arm. The definition of her musculature was visible even through the expensive knit sleeve.

“Hey Queenie,” Trish replied with a smile. “I'll get a drink started for you.”

Charlotte nodded her thanks graciously, lowering her eyes demurely as she did so, before her eyes fell upon Alexa. Alexa found herself leaning forward in her seat, realising there was a blood-deep part of her that was desperate to hear her name drip from Charlotte's lips. There was a magnetism, a song in the marrow of her bones that called out to everything Charlotte seemed to be, effulgent somehow even in the shadowy bar.

“Alexa, right?” Charlotte said, and her voice was silver bells. Alexa nodded dumbly, gooseflesh rising on her arms in response to the slight catch, the barest rasp in Charlotte's voice. Charlotte's words echoed in all the pores in her bones, running up her ribcage as a xylophone shiver.

“You must be Charlotte,” Alexa breathed. Charlotte smiled, and Alexa felt like she was dying.

“Your heart is racing,” Charlotte replied in a throaty whisper, expression dreamy and distant as she took a few steps toward Alexa, fascination bright in her eyes.

“Charlie,” the woman Trish had addressed as Lita spoke, her voice cutting through the moment of strange, ethereal tension between Alexa and Charlotte. “Don't forget yourself.”

The light seemed to go out in Charlotte's eyes; Alexa blinked and Charlotte was rigid, composed, remote. She could almost hear the sizzle in the air as the connection between them flickered and died.

“Well, let's not waste any time; shall we go into the back and do your interview?” Charlotte asked. “It's pretty informal, just a few questions to see if you fit the vibe of The Garden.”

Alexa was momentarily confused before she recalled the sign above the door, indicating the name of the bar; The Garden of Earthly Delights. Now she'd seen Charlotte, the name suddenly seemed to fit; if ever there was an earthly delight, it was Charlotte Flair. Alexa realised she hadn't responded as Charlotte delicately cleared her throat, drawing her from her dreaming contemplation of the patrician planes of Charlotte's face. She got to her feet.

“Sure thing,” she replied, hoping her distraction was not evident in her voice. “Apologies, I'm a little nervous.”

“I know,” Charlotte replied gently. Alexa could feel the impossible coldness of Charlotte's flesh through her clothes as Charlotte placed her hand on the small of Alexa's back, guiding her toward a door at the back of the bar. “I'm afraid I don't keep much of an office in here, forgive me for the mess.”

Alexa's skin prickled where Charlotte had touched, the subtle, strangely intimate powerplay rising a pleasant shiver in her veins as Charlotte pushed the heavy oak door ajar, leading into a room that spoke of a scholarly Victorian gentleman's study, magnificently appointed with antique furniture. The elegant chairs were upholstered in a rookwood jade velvet, the walls panelled with dark mahogany. To Alexa's surprise, the enormous window did not look out into a dreary parking lot or alleyway behind the bar, but to a rose garden, a verdant paradise bricked in and hidden in the middle of the city. An antique Persian rug muffled Alexa's footsteps as she entered the room, gasping at the masculine grandeur of it all. Books in hundreds of different languages lined the dark wood shelves, and Alexa didn't doubt that Charlotte had read all of them. A fire crackled pleasantly in the hearth, clearly made ready for her arrival. Charlotte indicated a sofa before the fire, perfectly placed should one wish to bask in the warmth whilst reading one of the many books from the expansive collection. Alexa perched on the edge, letting her fingertips brush the thick plush of the velvet. Charlotte sat in a matching armchair, crossing her long legs gracefully before leaning back to study Alexa with a bemused expression.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Charlotte implored. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you,” Alexa replied, swallowing. “Apologies, I was just... taken aback by the décor. Trish told me you're super into interior design.”

“Yes,” Charlotte nodded. “Its a fantastic form of artistic expression; I find I can evoke snatches of history, here and there, in how I dress a room. In here, I was inspired by the weighty masculinity of studies from the Regency and Victorian periods. The apartment you're in, a modern Parisian luxe vibe; today's style, with Seventies inspiration. I see clothes the same way.”

“You're an artist,” Alexa murmured, feeling the golden flourish of something blooming in her chest, some romantic admiration, some longing. Charlotte's oceanic eyes were full of hypnotic knowing.

“In a word,” Charlotte replied breathily, that strange, quixotic trance falling over them as they shared a quiet moment, eyes meeting as a quiet understanding flickered between them. Charlotte drew in a breath and steepled her fingers, looking at Alexa as though she were a darling little pet bird.

“You do beautiful work,” Alexa said, uneasy with the strange, flattered tang of glamour that fluttered through her as she noted how Charlotte studied her with fascination.

“Alexa, I like you; if I were a less shrewd business woman, I might go on gut feeling alone and hire you on the spot,” Charlotte smiled. “But I like to know what I'm getting myself into. Any bar experience?”

“No, but I've waitressed before,” Alexa answered earnestly. “And I'm a fast learner.”

“Good. We like that around here,” Charlotte replied. “Now, the next matter is... delicate. I ask, that if you leave here today deciding you would rather rescind your job application, you refrain from speaking about anything we discuss in the outside world.”

The phrase “the outside world” confused Alexa slightly, but she nodded nonetheless.

“I'm sure you are familiar with changes in modern society and approaches to differences in culture, sexuality, race-” Charlotte began. Things began to make sense, or at least Alexa thought so; of course the place was a gay bar. Briefly, she wondered where Charlotte's affections lay, trying to picture a person who could possibly stand next to her majesty as a romantic equal. For a hot, brief, breathless second, she glimpsed a dark room, could feel Charlotte's breath on her neck, her hands on Alexa's hips, guiding her to something, something irresistible, and terrible, and maddening, just out of reach and building like the crest of a wave, or the great swell of a distant storm; Alexa's skin was scalding, but Charlotte beneath her was as a marble sculpture, cold and hard muscled, a strange grace in the rippling sinew of her arms, and a terrible, deep burning in Alexa's neck as Charlotte bent to kiss her-

Her hand jumped to her collarbone, and the vision vanished, leaving her breathless and startled. Charlotte cleared her throat delicately, looking almost embarrassed. For a split second, Alexa was paralysed by the fear that Charlotte could read minds, but that was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

“Anyway, to get to the point; we offer a discreet sanctuary for those members of the population who are not safe elsewhere. A large portion of our clientele are vampires, as am I.” Charlotte said calmly. Alexa choked. Had her strange daydream been a premonition?

“You're a haemoph- vampire?” Alexa spluttered, dimly aware that her hands were shaking. Charlotte nodded, as though she had just revealed something as mundane as never having had chicken pox.

“Take care; we don't use the term haemophage, it's... something like a slur,” Charlotte's tone was delicate. “Now, I'm gathering from your reaction you've never knowingly met one of us before. I understand with the... ah... current political climate, that you've likely been conditioned to fear us. There's no need; we drink donated blood, or the blood of willing humans to sustain ourselves, and do not hunt or kill. Our ultimate aim is peaceful coexistence with humanity; The Garden is a corner of the world where I have made that aim a possibility. If your personal ideology prevents you from supporting our work here, and our ideals, you are welcome to decline the job offer. I will pay for your travel home, and glamour you to be sure you're unable to turn us in.”

“I haven't,” Alexa said finally, her mouth dry. “I- I've never even seen one. Of you, I mean. A... vampire. I didn't expect... I dunno. I didn't expect... this.”

“We're very similar to humans,” Charlotte said blandly, sipping her drink impassively. “And you needn't tangle with our affairs; all I need is for you to work the bar, and perhaps do the morning shift with Trish making breakfast.”

“I... I think I can do that,” Alexa slowly turned Charlotte's words over and over in her head as though they were a strange coin, inspecting them from every angle. “I just... I don't want to be... offensive, but... is it, y'know...”

“Safe? Perfectly safe. Nobody will drink from you,” Charlotte assured her, though there was a strange, amused glitter in her eyes, fathoms deep in the ever shifting shades of blue, green, grey. “Unless you want them to.”

“Want them to?” Alexa asked sheepishly, trying to empty her mind of the strange, brief flash of eroticism her mind had thrust upon her as they had started talking; she was not entirely certain vampires could not read minds, and she'd rather be safe than sorry. She almost balked as Charlotte got up from her seat with the lazy grace of a leopard and walked around her in a slow circle.

“Some humans... enjoy the act. It's very intimate. Some simply want to help our cause,” Charlotte sat down close beside Alexa, so close Alexa could feel her hair stir as Charlotte breathed. “You... give yourself to the vampire in question on the understanding that they will stop when you ask them to, that they will not take too much, that it will be safe. It's an act that requires a great deal of trust.”

“...Do... do you guys really bite people's necks?” Alexa asked sheepishly. Charlotte laughed, and the sound was velvet.

“Sometimes,” she murmured. Gently, she took Alexa's hands and gently placed her fingertips onto her neck. Alexa could feel the hairs on her arms stand up in response to the gentle finesse with which Charlotte touched her. “Feel your pulse? Just... there. That's the most common spot. Though there are other places. The wrist is a favourite for those wishing for a less intimate experience.”

As if remembering herself, Charlotte dropped Alexa's hand suddenly, withdrawing, her face carefully arranged into an expressionless mask.

“That's all I really need from you. You can go.”

“I-is that it?” Alexa stammered, astonished as Charlotte waved her off with an elegant hand. Hesitantly, Alexa got to her feet, and made her way toward the door.

“Oh!” Charlotte cried out softly, and Alexa turned, feeling her breath hitch as she met Charlotte's gaze, the shape of her all leonine and golden in the glow of the fire. “One last question. What's your drink of choice?”

“Ah! Um...” Alexa paused, trying to think of something that sounded sophisticated. “Um... Espresso martini.”

Charlotte quirked a perfect eyebrow, and got to her feet, every motion pantherine and languid as poured gold. She stood before Alexa, towering, glorious, a cloud of Guerlain Shalimar. Charlotte leaned in, and Alexa's heart raced painfully fast, fear suddenly flourishing in her veins like lit petrol, a desperate echo at the back of her mind, the pit of her stomach, begging Charlotte to kiss her.

“Then why, dear heart, does your blood smell of Shirley Temples?”

A downy warmth surrounded Alexa as she shifted, her eyes fluttering open, blinking against warm, low light of her bedside lamp.

“Don't panic,” Charlotte's voice was poured molasses, and Alexa found herself instinctively obeying the command. She slowly eased herself up into a sitting position. “You're alright. You fainted just as we were finishing up your interview.”

“Did I get it?” Alexa asked dazedly. Charlotte laughed, rich and velvety, before nodding.

“Yes sweetheart,” Charlotte's eyes were bright with mirth. “You got it. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Alexa said. “A little out of it. I think I just... had a long day and it got to me.”

“I thought I'd perhaps... frightened you,” Charlotte said gently. Alexa studied her face, slowly coming to the conclusion that she couldn't be afraid of Charlotte, not truly; there was a loveliness in her eyes that made Alexa feel like she couldn't have forced herself to be afraid even if Charlotte pounced right there and then and bled her dry in her own bed.

“No, not at all,” Alexa reassured her, feeling brave enough to smile warmly at Charlotte's concern. “I'm not afraid. I want to be here. I think it was just... information overload. And maybe a little too much sugar.”

“That's what shotgunning three Shirley Temples in quick succession will do to a li'l thing like you,” Trish said with a snort, climbing the stairs with a glass of ice water. “You went out like a light; Charlotte opened the door for you, and you just keeled right over.”

Charlotte and Trish exchanged a meaningful look, but the weight of it was lost on Alexa.

“Well, if you're feeling alright, I'll leave you to rest. Have an early night; I've got your number, I'll send you a text once I've sorted out your training shifts, okay?” Charlotte flashed Alexa a winning smile as she gathered her things. “Sleep well, and goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Alexa replied, nonplussed, watching Charlotte descend down the stairs in confusion.

“You sure know how to make an impression, huh?” Trish asked, sitting at the end of Alexa's bed. “What the heck happened?”

“I... don't know. She leaned in real close, and I just... blacked out. God... I feel like such an idiot, I'm so embarrassed-” Alexa began, wringing her hands.

“Oh baby, don't worry about it. You're just exhausted, after all that travelling, then trying to set your life up here right away... you need some sleep and a few days to recover,” Trish reasoned, though there was something in her eyes that piqued Alexa's curiosity, some glimmer of secrecy.

“I know Charlotte's a vampire,” Alexa prodded, noting the way Trish paused in adjusting her blankets and an expression of relief crept across her features. _Vampire. _Even the word felt foreign in Alexa's mouth.

Trish blew out a long sigh.

“Thank God. I thought I was gonna have to try and explain everything to you,” Trish said with a dark little laugh.

“Though... something weird happened,” Alexa began uncertainly. “Can vampires read minds?”

Once Trish had stopped laughing for long enough to reply, she dabbed away her tears with the corner of Alexa's duvet.

“Of course not, what on Earth makes you think that?”

“Well... when I was sitting with her, she was trying to explain the whole... vampire thing to me, and just... I don't know how to describe it. I had a strange flash of something, like a vision or a daydream, and... we were kissing,” Alexa lied carefully, blushing furiously even as she relayed the censored version of what she had seen. “And then she bit me. And then the dream was over, and she looked embarrassed, like... like she knew I'd been thinking about her.”

Trish started laughing again.

“Oh honey no, she was trying to glamour you; she does it in interviews to make sure nobody freaks out about the whole vampire thing. Just so happens you must have got a glimpse of her thoughts in the process. I guess now we know she definitely likes you,” Trish raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly in amusement, though she noted Alexa's expression of confusion. “Glamouring is something very very old, strong vampires can do. It's like... the power of persuasion, but turned up to eleven. She doesn't do it often, certainly not to 'control' anybody, but if the need arose, she would have been able to make you forget the conversation had ever happened.”

“So... you're telling me I saw what she was thinking?” Alexa asked dumbfounded, though she quickly reddened, clapping her hands to her mouth as she realised the implication. “Do you... do you really think she's interested in me? In... that way?”

“It can happen sometimes,” Trish shrugged. “Sometimes Lita tries to glamour me into making her a coffee, and I'll get a glimpse of what she's thinking about. Usually only happens with folks you have a strong connection with. As in... so close they've fed from you. As for Charlotte being interested in you, well, that's clearly a thing, but you're her employee now. So don't expect her to do anything about it. She's pretty professional, for all she's so... airy fairy.”

“Have you been fed from?” Alexa asked shyly. Trish looked surprised by the question, but nodded, pulling her shirt down slightly to flash a bruising bite mark on her chest.

“Me and Lita... Well, we have an understanding,” Trish said primly, though Alexa could tell from the barest smile in her voice and the soft flush in her cheeks that there was something romantic there. “Maybe you'll get the chance to have it happen to you someday, and you might like it, you might not. But it's not mandatory. Just... have fun learning about the vamp culture and don't think about it too much.”

“I'm... gonna sleep on it,” Alexa murmured, closing her eyes and blowing out a soft gust of breath. “I... don't know how to feel.”

“That's totally fine, babe,” Trish said, moving to head downstairs. “I'm gonna let myself out, okay? Goodnight, Alexa.”

“Goodnight, Trish,” Alexa replied. “Hey... Trish?”

“Yeah?” Trish paused on the stair, looking up at Alexa with a reassuring smile.

“How can somebody so beautiful be... not... human?”

“Maybe that's why she's so beautiful.”

With that, Trish left Alexa alone in her bed, her thoughts racing with such violent abandon that even contemplation was exhausting.


End file.
